It Put Out The Candle
by Winslow Fisherman
Summary: One of the most infamous stories has made its way into the world of Sly Cooper. It's a tale said to drive those that read it mad and into an obsession that it's too good to put down. Orel Myshton's 'Climatic Glory,' has stopped by the Cooper household. I bring forth a story for those that choose to take a gander: It Put Out The Candle.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Sly Cooper. Everything else is** **fictional.**

It Put Out The Candle

 _Creak, creak_ ; Corvey Cooper walks down the steps, he rounds the corner and sees his dad is watching the television. _Everybody Knows The Sound_ , is playing, and Sly is a home-contestant tonight. Corvey pulls out his knife from a rip in his teddy bear and slips it behind his back. He stops at his dad and taps him on the shoulder.

"Hey, what are you doing up?" The ex-master thief asks.

"What's tonight's sound," the sons replies, turning his head in wonder, "what's tonight's sound?"

"They haven't revealed…"

 _Slash_ , a scream follows, the young cooper watches his dad fall to the rug and look up in fear. The dad reaches out. _Stab_ , straight to the hand and Sly falls back. He's dying, his son moves in, looking at him curiously.

"Why?" Sly mutters.

"And as I looked out into the sea, my mind became still, for once, I felt the agony of being alive," Corvey whispers. He examines his blade and sighs, shivering. "My island…My Utopia….It was all mine, but I felt….Damn, one of the worst things…" he raises his blade above his dad's head. Sly moves up a hand, begging for mercy. "Loneliness, it's an emotion, A human one at that, why was I here? Should I end it?"

"Stop!"

"I'd fought God long and hard, Perhaps, it's not meant to be…But the sky, it's mixing black with silver," Corvey whispers. "To me, stars are the true beauty, they guide us to where we must be, I know…pathetic of all things to share," he says and delivers a finishing blow.

The murderer looks at his dad and closes his father's eyes. "If there is a better god than me, could he tell me how I could be? A person that achieved breath?" he says a little louder and moves away, taking the murder weapon with him, but he drops his teddy bear. He moves back up stairs to his room and crawls in bed, holding the knife close to him, a new stuffed animal. "My eyes won't rest, and I know, I turn and see them, shadows of the dead."

 **9.a.m. Cooper Residence**

"I can't believe it, I just…" Carmelita Fox trails off, looking at her son whose continuing to turn the blade in his hand while the small handcuffs clink softly. "Why? Why would he kill his father?"

"I don't know, but he needs to give up the weapon, or we will have to use force," replies Officer Blie. "I don't want to Inspector, but he is a murderer and a threat to this community."

"I'll get it away from him, I just, let him keep it because…"

"You couldn't think he did it, but who else could've…"

"I don't know, but I'll get the truth, let me question him."

"He's your son, I suggest you let another officer take this…"

"I'll question him!"

The policeman turns, walking over to the scene to discuss theories. Inspector Cooper moves over to her son and holds out her hand.

"I need your toy, now." Carmelita says her son. The murder looks at his weapon and then at his mom. _Swipe_ ; the wife takes her young's precious. "You're in real…"

"Give it back!" Corvey screams. "He's part of my 'paradise!'"

"Why did…"

"I want it back!"

Inspector Fox turns her head and sees Officer Blie move his eyes cautiously. She then looks at her son and stares Corvey in the eyes, a wasteland. Mom pockets the knife behind her.

"I need to talk to you, Corvey," Carmelita says. "I want to know why you killed your dad."

"He wouldn't stop the shadows from attacking me," the son replies. He snarls and looks away angrily. "I told him everyday to help stop the shadows but he never did."

"Oh, can you show me where the shadows are?"

"They don't stick around, they move. I told them to leave me alone one day and they left me the book to read."

"Book? What book?"

"Orel Myshton's 'Climatic Glory,'" replies Corvey. He smiles big and begins to laugh. "I like to read it when I'm bored. It's the best book I ever read."

Carmelita stands up and stares her son down. "Show me this book, now."

Corvey stands up and takes off running, a dust spread of innocence trails behind him. The wife moves, following her little fiend up stairs and into his room. She stops, looking around as she sees that all over are words written with crayons. One big flip of perspective shows their lines from something.

"How can you read this? It's way above…" Carmelita stops, turning to see a drawing of her son on top of a cliff holding a flare gun. The sea stretches out, the sun is far off in the distance, but it's not as distant as her son's mind. "My god, what have you been reading," she whispers and begins to weep. "What book is this?"

The son taps his only parent on her shoulder. She opens her eyes and sees the book. A man standing on a cliff with a flare gun in his hand as he stares off at an ocean is its cover; the drawing is nearly the same. Carmelita takes the book and opens it. As she flips her eyes twitch, the tears stream faster, and, finally she slams it shut.

"Its good, huh?" the son replies.

"I saw the lines…the lines about the shadows…is that what's been scaring you?" the Inspector sniffs. "When? How did you get this book?"

"The shadows brought it to me…"

"Don't lie! Tell me the truth!"

"The shadows brought it to me."

"Listen, you're in real big trouble, and I mean unfixable trouble."

"I want what's part of my paradise back now!"

"No! It's going to evidence…" Carmelita turns and storms out, but looks back at her son with disbelief. "Why? Why did you kill him? What did he do to you?"

"He wouldn't protect me from the shadows."

 **2 p.m. Cooper Residence**

"I can't believe it," the wife mutters and stares at the book. She won't let it go into evidence, not yet, she needs to examine it. "What did this book do to him? How was he able to…"

 _Creak, creak_ ; a tree moans outside. Out of instinct the vixen turns her head. No one is coming down her home steps. She growls, grabbing the book and throws it against the wall.

"He can't even…who could've…" Carmelita stops and drops her head onto the table.

 _Ding, dong_ ; someone is at the door. _Click, urk_ ; whoever is there is coming in whether the hostess likes it, or not. _Squeak, squeak_ ; Inspector Fox looks to see a turtle in a wheelchair move into view. Fury blinds her, she runs over, grabs him and begins to shake him violently.

"You did this! You did this to him!" the vixen screams. "You're the only one who has access to such strange artifacts…"

"Stop! Stop! What are you talking about?" the turtle inquires, "I gave your son no artifacts whatsoever!"

Carmelita stops, loosens her grip and walks over, grabbing the book. "You didn't give him this?" she screams, shaking it angrily instead of her suspect. "Come on Bentley, you've given him garbage before!"

"Whoa, I've never seen that in my life! I swear!"

The vixen throws her book and Bentley catches it. "Come on," she says as her visitor begins to look it over, "tell me the truth."

"What is this?" the turtle says as he flips through it, "Orel Myshton's 'Climatic Glory?'"

"Tell me…"

"What happened exactly?"

Inspector Fox looks to the ground and begins to weep. "He said he'd been complaining to Sly about shadows that were attacking him, and…there's a whole section on it in that book."

"I see it, I see it all…" Bentley replies and closes the book. _Bam_ ; he drops it to the floor and shakes his head. "Corvey was a good guy, what…when did he get this?"

"I don't know…but this…it just doesn't…I'm at a loss…"

"Well, I didn't give to him," replies the turtle. He closes his eyes thinking, then asks "Did he get along with his dad?"

"Yes, I just don't…I think…the book has mentally scared him."

"Well, all I can suggest is see if you can get an insanity plea, or perhaps see if there's someone else who could've…"

"He admitted it! He admitted he killed Sly!"

"But why?"

"I don't know!"

The old brains of the operation turns, rolling out of his hostess's house, but stops and sighs heavily. "He was a good guy, a really good guy…"

 **7 p.m. Cooper Residence**

 _Tick, tick_ ; the family clock's pendulum swings back and forth, a heavy silence for a horror house. The vixen sits, looking at the screen where, Everybody Knows The Sound, would come on, but tonight's answer is _Tick, Tick_.

"If he was scared, I could've helped," Carmelita whispers. Her eyes are red and wet. "I wish he'd tell me the truth."

 _Click_ ; a light goes on from upstairs. The wife turns, seeing a small white glow illuminating itself from the room of her fallen son. She turns, but something moving from within catches the corner of her eye. She stands up, and takes to the room. _Creak, creak_ ; the steps echo in a house of one. She stops. Dread washes over her, but a compulsion to move on pushes her forward. _Fwoo, urk, urk_ ; the wind blows and shakes a tree branch from outside. She looks back down the steps. Her son is playing with a cop car on the floor. It's a lost memory for a widow.

She turns back to the room and enters. Inside she spots black shadows moving around the walls. Fear travels up her spine and she begins to tremble.

"Who-who are you?" Inspector Fox asks. "Why? Why are you here? You're the shadows my son was talking about," she says and watches the lot travel into her son's pillow.

Carmelita walks over, grabs the pillow and feels it. She finds a paper, takes it out and reads it:

 **"** **The plan I had would not be ruined,**

 **A one man paradise, a laughing stock,**

 **But all those I knew would see my truth.**

 **I didn** **'** **t know I was staring at the sun,**

 **The society I had known and learned,**

 **It did that, their sight warped me sadly.**

 **My arrogance was strong at that time,**

 **But I said I** **'** **d make my utopia of one,**

 **My dry joke as they'd call it.**

 **I didn** **'** **t see what would follow,**

 **It would become, if not, a madness,**

 **A dream twisted by invisible events.**

 **I just wanted a paradise of happiness,**

 **The sad thing is that all worlds need it,**

 **Darkness, even if I only dreamed of light.** **"**

 **-Orel Myshton** **'** **s** **'** **Climatic Glory** **'** **; Chapter 1: The instigation, part 9.**


End file.
